


We Three Kings

by buttercups3



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Anal, CM2, F/M, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Strap-Ons, Threesome - F/M/M, Uncle/Niece Incest, might seem like dub-con but Miles loves it, pretty much pwp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 09:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercups3/pseuds/buttercups3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CM2 smut with references to scenes in S2E4 and E5. "It's been awhile since he's had sex with a woman, but there is something so deliciously boyish about Charlie; he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s like she's one part youthful Miles – playing pirates in the woods and scrawling on his arm with magic marker – one part fierce, sexy Rachel Matheson, then rounded out with a vivacity and innocence all her own."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guide me Home, Little Star

The rain filters the sleepers from Charlie’s eyes. She imagines it cleansing the vile drugs from her veins. Monroe’s tired – he’s been up for more than twenty-four hours watching her comatose ass – so she’s offered to take first watch tonight. Unbidden, her eyes flit back to the smooth curve of his chest and that single curl liberated in slumber from the wet, blonde mass. He sleeps with his hands folded on his chest like a corpse, but the gentle rise and fall of his faded shirt signify that he is all too alive and real. He is pain and outrage and every agony she has recently suffered. But in an absurd twist of fate, now that they are actually face to face, and she has the chance to _really_ hate him, her heart's not in it.

Blood and dirt are caked beneath her fingernails, reminding her that Monroe is, in fact, in good company. She, too, is a terrible person, has done the unspeakable - killed over and over in the past year and a half, and then something far worse. Burning with shame in her bedroll at night, folds flushed with blood and drenched in desire, she’d touched herself for Miles. Nieces don’t get to lust over their uncles. It’s not civilized. So nothing could be worse than that, right? _Wrong_. There’s something new, something so ugly, she dares not put it to words even in the privacy of her mind.

“You gonna stare at me all night, Charlie? Because I don’t sleep well when I’m being watched.” Monroe says this with his eyes closed, before lazily cracking the cerulean blues open at her.

_Shit. He knows. But he can’t **know** , can he?_

“When was the last time you got a piece of tail?”

“Fuck off, Monroe.”

“I’m just saying, kid. You look hungry.”

“Don’t call me _kid_. And I had someone only two days ago, actually. A nice bartender I met in -”

“A bar? Mm-hm. I’m beginning to think maybe you wish I _hadn’t_ been such a gentleman when you were knocked out.”

Charlie forces a laugh and shakes her head. “I _hate_ you. Why would I want to fuck you?”

Monroe folds his hands behind his head, blinking up into the gentle mist. “Sounds unnatural when you say that word: _fuck_. Trying too hard to be like Miles. You know, if you _really_ wanted to be like him, instead of getting yourself trapped in a bar brawl you couldn’t get out of, you’d shimmy your bedroll over here and expel that pent-up energy.”

“What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?” Charlie bites. She would enjoy punching him in that smug mug.

“It means that whenever _Miles_ was pissy, he was actually just horny.”

“You two…?” Well, that’s a surprise. After watching Miles and Nora dance around one other, and then the way Miles looked at her mother, Charlie never would have guessed that Miles was a switch-hitter.

“Yeah. You didn’t know?”

If she's honest, Charlie rather likes this about Monroe: He's direct. Far more so than any of the other people she’s cast her lot with lately. It dawns on her that there’s more to Monroe’ insistence on accompanying her to Willoughby.

“Is that why you want to get back to him so badly?”

His tone shifts and not for the friendlier. “Look, I get that I need to prove my intentions to you. But I don’t…” A tremble interrupts his sentence, and he has to start over. “When it comes to Miles, it’s personal. So drop it.”

Something is happening to Monroe's face. In a moment, he passes from open vulnerability to emotional mutiny to a perfect mask. _Jesus_. Monroe is fucked up over Miles. Monroe thinks he know Miles better than she does - well he _doesn't_. If Miles has taught her anything, it's do first and ask questions later.

Charlie is on this vision quest to sort out her inner murk, so here goes. _Miles, you're not going to like it, but this feels right:_

She moves her bedroll next to Monroe.

“Hi.”

Monroe shifts to his side, looking more impressed than surprised by the sudden turn of events.

“What made you change your mind?” that annoying, charming drawl.

“Your stupid face when you thought of him. And…I want you. So why not?”

…

It’s been like this ever since the accident – the day his family was expunged from Earth like a line drawing from a blackboard – his emotions suddenly mount and swirl until he must do _the thing_ \- whatever the thing is - to hell with the consequences. As stupid as Miles.

It's been awhile since he's had sex with a woman, but there is something so deliciously boyish about Charlie; he can’t quite put his finger on it. It’s like she's one part youthful Miles – playing pirates in the woods and scrawling on his arm with magic marker – one part fierce, sexy Rachel Matheson, then rounded out with a vivacity and innocence all her own.

Insane, but it’s almost like he’s in love with her before he’s even touched her, like she's making up for the family he’s lost. Just one more puzzle piece, and it’d be complete again.

They’re just staring at each other, blue eyes penetrating, when she finally lifts off her shirt and bra to reveal pert, little nipples – each breast exactly a handful. He takes one without asking, and she exhales.

“Can we just skip the foreplay, Monroe? I want you in me.”

She says it _exactly_ like Miles. Except, with him, it might be a little lewder: _Bend over; I wanna blow my load in you._ Given Bass’ diverse sexual tastes, he’s got a strap-on in his knapsack, and it occurs to him that he wouldn’t mind seeing what Charlie Matheson could do with it. But for now, he’ll let her have her way.

He discards his pants and boxers and pumps himself to attention for her, his dick instantly, angrily hard. It aches in his fist, as he watches her step out of faded blue panties. _Fuck_ , the sight of those dark blonde curls, matted from want – skipping the foreplay was an excellent idea. She’s smart, this one.

She lowers herself slowly onto his cock and slides her fingers up his shirt onto his slick chest. The rain intensifies and condenses on his eyelashes, forcing his eyes to shut against the sting.

“Uh, Bass!” she whimpers, as he grinds his thumb into her nub and slams his dick against her walls with blunt force.

Already tighter than any vagina he can recall, the compressions of her orgasm start to wring him out before he’s had time to think.

“Don’t you dare come in me!” Charlie orders, as she swings one leg over him, popping him out with a hand and yanking, since he’s already coming on her folds, on their legs, on her fist.

It takes forever for the spasms to stop, and he hears himself beg, “Harder, Charlie!” and _shit_ does she go for it, like she’s trying to wrench his dick out of its socket. “Ok, ok, ahhh, stop! Stop!” Bass is shivering and sweating, and the viscous rain is burning his eyes again.

He pulls her lithe body into him, and amazingly, she lets him. In fact, something really fucking tender is happening here. Still sitting on his limp dick, her naked torso plastered to his half-bared stomach, she tucks her soaked, little head under his chin. He strokes her golden waves, fingers getting caught in the wetness. Enormous, undeniable affection weasels into his guts. Want becomes need. He’s afraid he won’t be able to let her go when she asks.

But she doesn’t ask. In fact, she says the most insane thing imaginable. For a full minute her words hang in the air as he tries to determine if he’s hallucinated this whole tryst.

“Bass, I want this. But I also...shit, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you of all people might understand: I want _him_ , too. Miles.”

Finally, it dawns on Bass that it must have taken enormous courage to say that out loud, break that ancient taboo, and say it to _him_ of all people, her sworn enemy. He owes her exactly what’s on his mind.

“I want us – _all_ of us – too.”

…

The next day, riding into Willoughby, Charlie slides her hand onto Bass' thigh as he smacks the recalcitrant right horse. He doesn't turn but lightly entangles his fingers in hers.

"How are we going to get Miles to accept this?" She's asked herself this question a hundred times since last night but has only now decided to pass on the problem to Bass, having made no progress herself.

He inclines his face toward her with a flash of smile. "Have you slept with him yet, Charlie?"

She swallows so hard, she fears it's audible. "No."

"Well, Miles is a man of particular taste. Let's just say, we're not going to ask him, we're going to tell him. And he'll like it that way."

 _Shit._ She doesn't know what _that_ means, but she doesn't particularly like being outdone by Monroe. She accepts his tacit challenge to prove who really holds the reigns to Miles, extracting her fingers from his. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him grin again. _Asshole. Beautiful asshole._


	2. We Come Bearing Gifts

It was not five minutes ago that Charlie’d had her face buried in Miles’ faded red v-neck, dizzily ensconced in the familiar river-whiskey scent. But now, here she is, leading him to the lion’s den. Exhilaration and self-doubt compete for lung space, leaving her positively breathless. What if Miles doesn't actually want her? But that embrace in town, that “I missed you, kid” – there was more to it than family. That is, if her own desire hasn’t eclipsed her ability to read him properly.

“Ok, so now you have to promise me to not, you know, explode or go crazy…” Charlie explains to Miles as they near the rendezvous point under a dilapidated overpass.

Just as Miles is objecting with a “Wait, huh? No, that’s never a good thing…” Bass leaps soundlessly from the bushes and cracks Miles' temple with the hilt of his sword. His big body crumples into the gravel.

“Bass!” Charlie gapes in horror and flings herself onto Miles to check his breathing. For a terrifying moment, she’s convinced she’s been duped by Bass the crazed murderer, who all along has been plotting Miles' demise.

But Bass rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, which she struggles to shake off, before he tightens his grip, insisting, “I know it’s not ideal, but trust me, it’ll save us a lot of misery. You _know_ how stubborn he is.” Bass finally removes his hand and squats down next to Charlie to run his fingers over Miles’ still lips. “Now help me get his clothes off.”

“What?” she shrieks, nearly rocking off her haunches. In all her imagingings of her first union with Miles, she's never envisioned him unconscious. It isn't right. She has to know Miles wants her back.

“Charlie, don’t look at me like that. Miles likes to dominate 90% of the time, but when he subs, he _really_ subs. He’s going to like this. Trust me.”

Charlie shoots him the wickedest scowl she can muster, so he amends:

“If he doesn’t like it, and this doesn’t work out, then I give you complete permission to stab me with my own swords. Charlie, I already told you: I want him, too. Why would I jeopardize a chance with you both?” 

Vulnerable as it renders her, Charlie's got to put voice to her worst fear: “But what if he doesn’t want _me_? I’ve never asked.”

Bass’ brilliant blue eyes flicker to a private, sad space for a split second, before he answers mildly, “Then ask him when he wakes up. He won't be in a position to lie. You’ll know for sure one way or another.”

Charlie is so out of her element, she can’t think of any more objections, so she finally just clarifies, “Take off his clothes?”

“Yep, and then we’ll tie him up.” 

“But look at his hand!” 

Bass shifts to gingerly investigate the limp hand protruding from the unconscious pile of Miles. “Hmm. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. I’m kind of a boy scout when it comes to bondage,” he grins deviously. “I’ve been tying up your uncle for…well, for as many years as you’ve been alive, Charlie.”

While she rather resents the reminder of _uncle_ , she nevertheless pulls off Miles’ jacket and shirt, leaving the lower half to Bass. If she's honest, she’s flustered at the thought of viewing in the flesh what she’s so long fantasized about.

Bass, squatting and yanking off Miles’ boots, appears to interpret her diffidence and smirks, “Well don’t deprive yourself. Trust me, it’s everything you’ve hoped for.” Then, his mouth explodes into the most brilliant, toothy smile. Charlie steps over Bass' legs and lowers herself onto his teetering lap.

“I wouldn’t mind a do-over from last night,” she whispers a centimeter from his twitching lips.

“Oh, you’re going to get a lot more than last night,” Bass assures, breath smelling faintly sweet of the apples they had for lunch. He leans in for a kiss so deep, he loses his footing, and they collapse on each other, giggling. Just a few days ago Charlie had tried to crossbow this motherfucker; now she’s making out with him like a frivolous schoolgirl. As it happens, they've landed right by Miles’ pelvis. Hell, if she’s going to win in her friendly little competition for Miles’ affections, she’s got to be bold. She slides her hand up the seam of Miles' pants, enjoying the soft bulge beneath, and unthreads supple leather belt, unbuttons, unzips. Then she hoists down his pants and boxers simultaneously. She’s waited forever to see it, and it’s utterly perfect. As she pauses to admire it, Bass chuckles and finishes discarding Miles' pants for her.

“Yeah. Just wait until it’s hard," he almost growls from desire. "I’ve missed this stupid fucker. Now, go get your canteen. I’m just going to tie his wrists and ankles. I’ll leave his cock alone, so you can appreciate it in its full glory.”

Charlie gulps and does as she’s told. In a moment, Bass has Miles’ wrists tied behind his back and his ankles fastened in complex knots unlike anything Charlie's seen before. Bass flicks water from Charlie’s canteen at Miles, who awakes, dripping and sputtering. The dark eyes instantly narrow with fury.

“The hell? Bass?” Miles lolls his head to take in his own naked body. He tests his bonds and thrashes against them.

“They’ll only get tighter if you do that. And I don’t want you to hurt your hand. How’d that happen anyway?” Bass asks pleasantly, as if discussing the weather.

“Fuck you, Bass! Why are you here? Where’s Charlie? What did you do with her?” Miles snarls.

Charlie clears her throat and steps forward, swallowing mild terror. “I’m here!” it comes out more as a peep than the intrepid announcement she’d envisioned. Her chest stings when the panic in Miles' chocolate eyes shifts to confusion then betrayal. Is all this humiliation really necessary when she just wants to hold him?

“Step aside, Charlie,” Bass orders, tenderly but firmly moving her by the shoulder. Charlie and Miles remain eye-locked. She tries to get hers to communicate, _I’m sorry. I love you, but Bass says this is the only way._ But Miles just keeps looking so damn hurt.

“Miles. Charlie and I want you to join us,” Bass attempts to get Miles’ attention. Finally, Miles breaks his stare to look up at Bass, who has positioned himself assertively before his old beau. Watching Bass in his element – that commanding tone in his voice – Charlie’s panties have grown uncomfortably wet.

“The hell are you talking about, Bass?” Miles’ voice sounds raspy, as he awkwardly maneuvers his body into a position that doesn’t expose him quite as much to Charlie.

“Kneel,” Bass demands.

“Sorry?” 

“Kneel.” Bass draws the riding crop slowly from his sword belt and strikes Miles across the bare chest with a _crack_.

“Ow!” Miles objects in shock, pain, and acerbity that he’s been bested.

“I said kneel!” Bass unleashes a fresh torrent of _cracks_ , whipping Miles across the cheeks, chest, abdomen, and finally, right across the vulnerable, pink cock. With Miles’ hands fastened behind him, he can muster no protection from the onslaught and so angrily heaves himself forward onto his knees. Charlie has backed away, unsure of herself, shaking a little, but also growing wetter by the second.

“Ass in the air, Miles. It’s ladies first today,” Bass intones with monumental calm.

Miles is taking orders now, looking pissed as hell, and bends forward onto his elbows. Once his bare ass is hoisted, he shifts his head to fix Charlie with a fathomless stare. _Ladies first._

Meanwhile, Bass shuffles in his bag and slings a strap-on and tube of lubricant haphazardly at Charlie, who fumbles to catch them. Staring judgmentally at the accouterments like they're her very naughty kittens, Bass finally shatters the spell with a laugh.

“Here. Let me,” Bass offers, swinging Charlie around in front of Miles, presumably so that the prisoner can enjoy an eyeful. To Charlie, Miles has seemingly morphed into a silent bull - pouting, raging, and still as stone, waiting to gore. It's unnerving, comical, and oddly alluring all at once.

Bass kisses the tips of Charlie’s hair, then inclines her chin to prod her mouth with his tongue. In a moment, they’re tongue fucking more ravenously than Charlie has imagined possible. Bass slides his open hand down her stomach to unbutton her pants, shoving dirty fingers at her puffy, needy folds.

“So ready to play, Charlie,” Bass approves, yanking down her pants and panties and helping her to step out of her clothes. The breeze chills her nethers, and she takes the opportunity to glance at Miles, whose eyes have dilated to the point where his irises look black. Because of his prostrate posture, she can just make out the head of his penis, peeping out between his legs. _Hard._ That's a good sign.

Miles isn’t the only one on his knees; Bass trails a kiss up Charlie's left thigh, heading straight for the V of her legs. After one prolonged tongue-swipe of her folds, he plunges it into her, maddeningly pliable - not nearly hard enough to fuck against. He's laughing into her desperation, vibrating her folds, before parting them to suck on her clit. Then come the fingers, shoved straight in to explore. 

“Mm, Bass,” she whines, rocking precariously. _Please don’t stop_ , her brain begs, and then, _fuck_ , he does. With swiftness he vacates her, clicking into place the strap-on directly over her clit, imbuing an aggravating constant pressure there. Bass smears an enormous glob of lubricant onto her makeshift cock and grandiosely gestures at Miles.

“Make him beg, Charlie.”

With the unfamiliar strap-on in place, there’s only one way to walk: Strut. So she struts before Miles and lifts off her tank-top with both hands, now adorned only in her faded pink bra with the delicate lace at the bosom. _Here goes._

“Miles. Do you want me?”

Miles stares at her for a long, challenging moment before he shifts off his elbows to reveal his massive erection. She gulps at the sight.

“Make him say it, Charlie,” Bass encourages from the sidelines.

“I _said_ , Do you want me?” She refashions her voice into something colder and more authoritative.

“You know I do,” Miles croaks.

“No. You never said.”

“Well, I’m saying now.”

“And do you want Bass?”

With a curt laugh, Miles answers, “I’d like to gut the son-of-a-bitch for knocking me out, but…yes. I _always_ want Bass.”

Charlie glances briefly at Bass, who isn’t giving away his cards. He does minutely lick his lips. Bass prods Charlie, “This is your show. Do what feels right.”

Charlie knows what she’s _supposed_ to do – hitched to this foreign cock – but she’s not quite ready for that yet. Instead she drops to her knees and pulls Miles' scratchy face into hers for a rapturous kiss. He responds voraciously, like it’s exactly what he’s been waiting for this past year and a half. When he parts her lips with his tongue (tasting of whiskey and fire smoke), she gets so lost in arousal, her juices literally trickle down her thighs. Miles doesn’t have free use of his hands, so he just thrusts his tongue harder into her mouth, while she reaches between his legs to finger his silky shaft. His dick is so hard, it telegraphs prodigious need to her hand.

Abruptly, she backs off and stands. Miles looks so instantly destitute, she laughs and orders, “Back on your elbows. I’m going to fuck you now.” She looks at Monroe on the _fuck_ , since she knows it amuses him, and is mildly surprised to see that he’s stripped entirely to the nude.

“You’re getting fucked from both ends, Miles. You deserve it, you desperate slut. Look at your cock. It’s already dripping,” Bass says in that even, imposing voice.

Holy shit is Bass’ dirty talk a turn on to Charlie. Charlie gets on her knees behind Miles, raking her short, filthy nails down his back, leaving marks. She uses the lube to slick up her fingers and then parts Miles’ cheeks. She’s never invaded someone’s bum before and momentarily gets hung up, imagining the little hole as scared and defenseless. She traces its outline, and it contracts like an independent, living creature; then she pushes her finger in. _Find his prostate_ , she instructs herself, feeling deep within him - slimy, close, hot. She's coming undone.

“Charlie, you’re being too gentle. He’s a little bitch and deserves to be torn apart. You _want_ to hurt, don’t you, Miles?” Bass emphasizes, yanking Miles by the chestnut hair right into his face. Charlie watches as Bass starts savagely tongue fucking Miles. 

Charlie shoves in two more fingers and beckons them hard within Miles' body. She hears him involuntarily moan into Bass’ mouth. He does seem to like it. His hole’s bigger now, pliant, so she extracts the fingers at last and aligns her rubbery cock for the final plunge. She shoves it forward in with one brutal stroke, and Miles slams into Bass’ arms. Bass holds him and kisses his hair.

"Good boy," Bass coos.

“Miles,” Charlie calls from the rear. “I’m going to _own_ you.” She giggles at how ridiculous and dirty it sounds, and then begins pounding him harder than she's ever fucked anything. With each thrust, the base of the strap-on jams up against her clit, and after a minute or so, she forgets any regard for Miles' sensitivity and concentrates entirely on her own release. She comes hard against the plastic, and only after she’s begun to shake off the stars in her eyes, does she realize that Bass is forcing his dick in Miles' mouth with parallel abandon. She's going to need a better look.

Pulling out and unfastening the strap-on, she migrates behind Bass, sliding her fingers into his blonde curls and gripping them. Bass is brutalizing Miles so viciously, Miles has tears in his eyes from the blunt trauma. Bass comes, and Miles does his best to suck, pearly white escaping from his lips and dribbling down his unshaven chin. Bass pulls out, and Miles gasps for breath, spitting some of the excess cum into the dirt. But Miles isn't pissed anymore. He's looking at Bass with...love. Charlie is mesmerized and pulls Bass' hair so hard, he reaches up to pry open her fingers.

Bass admires, “Miles, you are a good slave, so now you get your reward. I’m going to untie you, but don’t try anything stupid, or you’ll regret it.” He rises and slowly removes Miles’ bonds, before laying his lover's head in his lap. Miles is trembling a little but lets Bass stroke his hair and cradle his head. “Charlie, you want to mount him?” Bass suggests.

 _More than anything._ The two of them look irresistibly sexy, Miles lying on his back surrounded by naked Bass. She climbs onto Miles hips, pumping him back to full erection and then lowers herself onto him. She’s loose and wobbly from her recent orgasm, so she starts slow, rocking back and forth against the hard line of his penis. Miles interlocks his his fingers in hers.

“Harder, Charlie, more,” Miles groans at her, and she complies, fucking with all her remaining strength. “Close!” he warns, and she evicts him, jacking his cock two-handed until he’s geysering, trickling down her fists. She bends forward to lick the cum from his head and feels him shiver; Bass shivers, too. She plunks forward, allowing Miles to collect her in his arms.

She is utterly complete. And then, she panics. _What now?_ But Bass swiftly disarms her fears.

“Come on, you two. There’s an abandoned house about a mile that way. I don’t know about you, but I could use a real bed right about now. I’m exhausted.”

The elation at the thought of sleeping with both men at once surpasses even the sex. Charlie knows it sounds crazy, but nothing makes more sense than the three of them together in one bed.


	3. They Speak in Cities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ridiculously porny conclusion of this story awaits. I crawled into Charlie's perspective last chapter and refused to emerge.

It turns out there is a mess of Patriots separating Charlie and “the boys,” as she’s internally taken to calling them, from their domestic refuge. It is Bass who first detects the crackle of footfall in the scrub – Miles appears too dazed by his recent ordeal, and, as little as Charlie cares to admit it, Bass always bests her at tracking and reflexes. The ex-Marine puts up his hand and closes his fist; Miles drops down, yanking down Charlie with him. Miles continues to hold her fast, while she calms her hearbeat to the rise and fall of his chest. They’re dressed again, of course, but she can visualize the soft chest hairs beneath, the sprawling tattoos on his biceps. Miles meets her stare until she drops it rather bashfully. Then, from the corner of her eye, she sees him crack a smile.

“Later,” he growls in a low, inviting voice, and her stomach flip-flops like a dying fish.

Bass peers through his binoculars and strategizes with Miles, “There are eight of ‘em. You think… Albany?”

“That’ll work,” Miles confirms.

“You guys are just saying cities!” Charlie objects, feeling left out.

“Cover us,” is all Bass responds, slinging a gun painfully at her chest, which she catches with an “Ow!"

And then, simultaneously, with the grating slide of metal on metal, the boys draw their swords. Magnificently phallic, agile, sexy. Then, all hell breaks loose. For the next few minutes, Charlie takes shot after shot at the enemy, darting to the next available cover, ducking and regaining her confidence to do it all over again. In a lull, she watches her two lovers elegantly exact carnage, like dancers, following choreography they can’t possibly have rehearsed - combat is far too unpredictable for that - but somehow they achieve perfect synchronization.

Minutes later, she’s treading over a field of bodies toward two very self-satisfied grins. At this point, the thing she wants most is to make love to them as equals. The game of convincing Miles is over. It’s time to build something together that’s as beautiful as when they destroy together. More so, hopefully.

“Well, we’ve still got it,” Bass appears to be congratulating mainly himself.

“Shut up, Bass” is Miles’ retort. But he looks equally smug and pleased.

Bass shrugs and points his sword in the direction of a gray-shingled roof. “There.”

Bass peeks in a window and nods to Miles, who kicks open the door and checks for intruders. It’s silent and welcoming as a womb in the tiny cabin. The bed is king-sized, as if it’s been created specifically for their needs, adorned by a charming Americana quilt.

Miles disarms and glances from Bass to Charlie. “I trust you two are going to play nice now?” He undoes his belt and thrusts his good hand down the back of his pants. “I think my asshole’s bleeding.”

Guilt douses Charlie. She reaches for Miles' arm and gasps, “I’m so sorry, Miles! Bass told me you like that.”

Miles smiles at her warmly and pulls her in for an embrace that feels like home. “Bass talks a lot of bullshit…but yes, every now and then I like a good pounding. This one was particularly welcome since it was from you.”

“You've wanted me for awhile?”

“Since forever. I know it’s wrong…”

“I don’t care,” she whispers into his armpit, as he strokes her hair and kisses it.

“Come on, lovebirds. Enough with the sap; let’s get undressed,” Bass complains, but Charlie sees something else flicker in his eyes. Jealousy? Navigating a triad is going to be complex.

Perhaps Miles sees the same in Bass' blues, because he releases Charlie and crosses straight over to his beau, immediately supplanting Bass’ hands at button and zipper. As Miles draws down Bass' zipper, he pulls Bass' cock up and out, spitting into his hand and pumping the shaft roughly – far harder than Charlie would have. There is something so right about watching a man manipulate another man’s dick – like Miles knows exactly how much Bass can take. Bass leans his forehead against Miles’ shoulder and moans, and just when he appears close, Miles backs away with a cruel, playful smile.

“Uhh,” Bass complains, but sets about removing his clothes based on Miles’ good example, who is somehow already out of his boots and pants.

Miles glances over at Charlie with dark, lustful eyes. “You, too, babe,” and her chest lurches at the replacement of “kid” with “babe” – lovers now, family no more, or at least not _that_ kind of family.

When they’re all naked, Miles hones in on Charlie, gripping her breast and ravenously devouring her lips, forcing her down onto the edge of the bed. She’s trying to match his intensity, but Jesus – Miles is impassioned. He’s working down her neck, stopping briefly to suck her nipple and then slide down her bellybutton to shift her left leg over his shoulder. Then he plunges in to rapaciously eat her out, igniting sparks behind her closed eyelids. Just as with Bass, he doesn’t let her finish. When she’s at the brink, he maddeningly retreats and laughs at her evident dismay.

“I warned you that he’s really a dom,” Bass shrugs from where he’s been leaning against the wall, wanking.

Miles chuckles and is suddenly behind Charlie, pulling her backward onto the bed.

“Charlie, you ever had a dick in your ass?” Miles asks as bluntly as if he were asking her if she knew how to use a sword.

She shakes her head but is shocked to realize how much she wants it.

“All right. I’ll try to leave less of a mark on you than you did on me. But no promises,” he says into her ear, before biting her earlobe. She squeaks at how much it tickles.

Bass positions himself on the bed in front of her with his legs splayed open, solicitous, so she kneels forward to gently lick his silky head, enjoying the little sounds of approval he makes when she tongues his slit. Meanwhile from behind, Miles proves he is not half-assed about sex. She feels hot breath on her bum, and then he licks down the part of her cheeks until he discovers hole. Whereas tongues never feel quite stiff enough against her clit, when he pulses the tip against her back hole, she is shocked at the immense pressure.

Charlie pauses long enough that Bass cups her cheek in concern. She shakes her head - _she's ok_ \- and goes back to licking, sliding her wet fingers up and down the ridges of his shaft.

Then Miles plunges his tongue inward. _Fuck. He’s brave_ , she thinks. She’d be nervous about what she’d find in there, about disease, about it tasting bad. But he’s exploring the hell out of the inside of her rectum like she’s made out of candy. He sticks in a wet finger next to his tongue and then another. After awhile, the tongue comes out and a third finger goes in. It burns, it aches, but it’s not altogether unpleasant. He leaves his fingers in and reaches around with his broken hand to caress her breasts, kissing her neck, her ears, making her giggle.

“How’s it going back there, Miles? I could use a bit more over here,” Bass finally announces. Charlie likes that they're a little team working toward mutual release.

“She’s an ass virgin, Bass. How do you think it’s going? I’m afraid I’m going to tear her a new one.”

“I can take it!” Charlie asserts, a little annoyed they’re referring to her as a virgin. She curses her inexperience and is determined to prove she’s equal to this challenge.

“All right, let’s try this,” Bass suggests. “Miles, you lie back; Charlie, see if you can thread him into your ass reverse cowgirl.”

She gulps and takes hold of Miles’ dick, pushing it against her tight hole. For a minute, she’s convinced it’s never going in, not even a fraction of a centimeter, but she wills herself to relax and, at last, her reluctant sphincter yields. From behind, Miles makes a desperate little moan that encourages her to push him in further. At some point she’s able to lie back in his arms, and he cradles her from behind with arms so long, they feel like they could wrap around her twice.

Bass descends on her now, using his cock to tease her folds, prodding her clit over and over. Miles remains still, letting her get used to the foreign fullness. She has to continually will herself to relax to bear it. Finally, Bass enters her, and she gasps, afraid she might explode from the stretching. Neither of the boys’ dicks are a joke – they’re sizable men.

Charlie is embarrassed that she’s whimpered aloud, but Miles kisses her hair and says, “Yeah, babe. Perfect fit.” Easy for him to say.

Bass fumbles for Miles’ good hand and intertwines his fingers. “Miles, I can _feel_ you through her.”

Miles sighs. “Fuck us, Bass. I can't really move from this angle.”

So Bass bears the load, fucking hard into Charlie for everyone’s benefit. Charlie has absolutely no control over the sounds emitting from her. She’s so full of cock, entangled in such a mix of pain and pleasure, that part of her begs for Bass’ release and the other never wants this to end, dreading the moment she’ll feel loose and empty without them.

Bass finds a way to grind his pelvis against her clit, and before she realizes she’s close, she’s exploding into the world’s most complex orgasm – her vagina and anus clenching against their intruders, her uterus contracting in violent muscles spasms.

It’s possible she’s yelled; she might have tears in her eyes. Bass is filling her with seed, biting his lip and thudding into cervix. _Shit._ They’re already making poor choices. What if she gets pregnant? But at this moment, she truly doesn’t care. Bass collapses onto her, and she holds him, feels Miles hold him around her.

She and Bass gasp breathlessly in unison for a few minutes before Miles finally says, “No offense, but you guys are heavy.”

Bass rolls off to the side, and then Charlie moves onto her side with Miles still lodged in her bum. She reaches forward to be received into Bass’ muscled arms.

Miles whispers in her ear, “Can you take a little more?”

She nods and nuzzles into the crease between Bass’ pec and bicep. Bass kisses her forehead comfortingly.

Now Miles starts pumping in and out of her. It’s more friction than she’s used to, but she’s also feeling more pliant now that Bass has vacated her, his seed trickling down between her legs. Miles gathers Charlie's hair into a loose ponytail and pulls rapturously at the roots.

“Uh, Charlie,” Miles moans wantonly, and she loves that her body is making him lose himself. Finally he pounds her with desperation, and she experiences the peculiar sensation of him coming deep within her. He shivers and gently draws out.

They fashion themselves for sleep with Miles as their anchor, Bass tucked under his arm and Charlie wedged in between. As she’s beginning to drift, she feels them making out above her head – hears their panting, the smack of their tongues. And then, this:

“Love you, Miles.”

“Me too, Bass.”

Just when she thinks that she is maximally contented, Miles offers to her, “We love you, too, Charlie.”

She squeezes whatever appendages are within reach and answers, “Love you more.”  

Miles sighs but sounds happy. “Not a competition.”

Bass snorts a muffled laugh into whatever part of Miles’ body he’s burrowed into. “It’s always a competition with this one.”


End file.
